


Merry Huxmas

by Gefionne, nookienostradamus



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bah Humbug, Caroling Stormtroopers, Crack, Festive masturbation, Finalizer holiday spirit, Force choking of poor Mitaka, Hux as Scrooge, Hux doesn't get it, M/M, Yes it's explicit Christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nookienostradamus/pseuds/nookienostradamus
Summary: Christmas is a silly thing—frivolous and unwarranted. Or so thinks General Armitage Hux. It takes the intervention of three strange but somehow familiar spirits—of past, present and future—to convince him both that it’s the most wonderful time of the year and that he needs to do some serious thinking about his relationship with Kylo Ren.
 A Finalizer Christmas Carol





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let the festivities begin! Updates every Sunday until Christmas.

General Armitage Hux was quaking in his boots, but it wasn’t from fear. Rather, he was angrier than he’d ever been in his thirty-four years. At the very least, that’s what it felt like at the moment. His fists were clenched tight, his complexion livid.

“Congratulations, Ren. You’ve deprived E Deck of its shuttle controls. Should the Finalizer be breached, you will have cost me hundreds of well-trained troopers and loyal officers. Are you prepared to take responsibility for that before the Supreme Leader?”

Kylo Ren only inclined his head, inscrutable behind the expressionless mask. “I’ve taken responsibility for many deaths under his command.”

Hux ground his teeth together. “In battle, yes. This would be a waste of perfectly good manpower.”

“Hypothetically.”

“No, you oaf. Literally.” Hux could hear the leather of Ren’s gloves squeaking.

Ren laughed. Had there been a cliff on the foredeck of the star destroyer, Hux would have shoved him from its precipice and watched with glee as his body broke on the rocks. Not that he would fall in the first place; his precious and infuriating Force would bear him up and it would likely be Hux who ended up shattered below.

“What I mean, _General_ ,” Ren said, “is that a hull breach of the Finalizer is highly unlikely. You and I both know it.”

“That fact doesn’t give you express permission to maim my ship!” Hux shouted. “Nothing does.”  

“I need no permissions. I take orders only from the Supreme Leader.”

Hux scowled. “And I suppose he ordered you to destroy my control room with your poorly-made sword?”

Ren stepped forward, rage now flowing from him in near-palpable waves. “It’s a lightsaber. And it’s not poorly made.”

Hux advanced, narrowing his eyes. “Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

“Is too.”

“Is not!” Ren yelled.

Hux managed to rein in his smoldering fury for a moment. “Regardless, you absolute _child_ , your tantrums have cost me man-hours and credits. Were it not for the intervention of the Supreme Leader, believe me, you would be on permanent duty in the waste pits.”

Ren bent low, the hiss of his voice nearly missed by the vocoder. “By virtue of being on your ship, General Hux, I am _already_ on permanent duty in the waste pits.”

Hux seethed. “Considering your parentage, it should be just like coming home, then.”

Growling, Ren turned and stomped away, his heavy footfalls echoing along the polished durasteel floor.

Stars, he hated that overgrown whelp. Hux’s distaste at his antics left a foul taste in his mouth long after his brief, fiery encounters with the man. Which would do quite a lot to explain his lingering sour mood when Thanisson came to the doors of his office.

“S-sir?” Thanisson asked, coming to attention smartly enough to nearly throw himself off balance.

“What is it?” Hux asked.

“Well, sir, you see…” he started.

Hux poured himself two fingers of Corellian brandy and snapped, “Spit it out.”

“General Hux, sir. Some of the men pooled their credits on the last shore leave and bought, well, Christmas decorations. We were just—humbly, sir—wondering if we might be able to put some of them up in the officers’ lounge.”

“Again?” Hux asked, tightening his grip on the brandy glass.

Thanisson looked at his feet. “Well, sir, you forbade it last year. I mean, drinking and dancing and all manner of merry-making. We wouldn’t make too terribly merry this year. It would only be a few things in the lounge.”

“Bah,” Hux said.

“It would improve morale,” Thanisson added, his voice soft.

“What retains morale most is _order_. Deviation from standard practices should never be tolerated, no matter the occasion. I _may_ decide to allow a few trinkets in the junior officers’ lounge, but should hear or smell anything untoward, I will cancel all holiday celebrations from here on out. And there will be no dancing of any sort whatsoever.”

“Yes, sir,” Thanisson said, the corners of his mouth twitching, trying to rise into a smile for the small grace afforded him. “You won’t hear any music, sir. Or see any dancing.”

“Good,” Hux said. “Now leave me in peace.”

“Yes, sir.”

And yet, the mind of General Armitage Hux was _not_ peaceful. His distaste for this frivolous holiday was surpassed only by his distaste for Kylo Ren, and both were such that it truly fell beyond distaste and into loathing.

He downed the brandy in one gulp and poured himself another generous dose. Poring over holorecords of the damage done to E Deck, he felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy, the brandy running thick and intoxicating through his veins. Rarely did Hux allow himself such indulgence, but with a sort of surrender he would never let his men see, he slipped into a half-drowse, head cradled in the crook of his arm on the desk.

Well into the night cycle, he was wakened with a start at the sound of ice clinking in a glass. He looked up and flinched in shock. Before him hovered a tumbler full of whiskey on the rocks. Even as he thought the apparition must be residual dream material, he felt an ominous kind of familiarity, as well.

“No,” Hux said, addressing the glass. “You are merely a figment of my imagination, caused by overmuch alcohol consumption.”

It was then that a pudgy translucent hand materialized around the glass, a tremor in its grasp rattling the ice once again. He found shortly that it was not merely a disembodied hand. Out of the relative darkness of his office came a haggard apparition—one nonetheless with a substantial gut.

The horrific phantom brought with it a cold gust of wind that ruffled Hux’s meticulously tamed hair.

Then it belched. “Ahhh,” the manifestation said.

“Are you serious?” Hux asked, as much of himself as he did of the ghost.

The hideous visage of Brendol Hux grinned, its jowls rising. “Armitage,” it said. “I am the ghost of your father.”

Hux sighed. “I know who you are.”

“Then know, know for certain...that I truly regret that name.”

Scowling, trying to hide the shiver that traveled down his spine and the sudden contraction of his bladder, Hux said, “If you’re here to unload the burdens of your miserable parenting, we’ll both be here until I am rotting in this chair.”

“No,” said the elder Hux, “what I have come to impart to you is far more important. It is a matter of your very salvation as a general _and as a man_.”

“You, Father, could give the advice that I shouldn’t put myself out of an airlock and I would proceed to do just that.”

“Listen to me, Armie.”

Hux winced visibly at the use of his hated nickname.

“You will be visited by three spirits this night cycle. More important even than mine, it is imperative that you heed their words, for they shall only try to steer you on a course that is true. The one you currently walk will lead only to disaster. There is a man aboard this ship who holds your destiny in his admittedly giant hands.”

“I alone hold my destiny,” Hux growled, nonetheless a pinch curious. “You saw to that. Now depart from my office before I force myself to wake up and never touch a drop of alcohol again.”

“Expect the first spirit promptly at the zero hour,” Brendol said, his voice quavering with phantom menace.

“I expect to wake and find you gone,” Hux said. “That is the only expectation I have ever had of you, and you fulfilled it nicely when you died.”

The wraith shook its head. “Your night is far from over, my illegitimate but unexpectedly successful son.” His voice went in and out as if over a faulty comm, and his form began to curl into mist around its edges. “The first spirit comes to you soon!” Then the apparition disappeared into smoke with one final resounding belch.

Hux jerked awake, brushing the immaculate cuff of his immaculate uniform through a substantial puddle of drool. There was nothing before him but the closed doors to his office.

“I knew it,” Hux said to himself. “Only the remnant of a bad batch of Corellian swill.” He carried the decanter to his quarters and promptly poured it into the sink in the ‘fresher.

With a final, half-paranoid glance around his quarters, Hux stripped himself of his uniform and put on his crisp regulation pajamas. His own, of course, were silk rather than cotton and boasted a First Order insignia patch over the breast pocket. He buttoned the shirt all the way to his throat and settled into his bunk.

The chronometer read 2300.

“Bah,” he said again and rolled over, falling into a deep slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

A sharp, insistent beeping woke Hux again. He slapped at the chronometer at his bedside in an attempt to silence the alarm. It continued to trill sharply. Cursing, he picked it up and threw it across the room. He expected to hear a crash and then blessed quiet, but neither came. A light flashed, making him blink and cover his eyes. The fall of heavy boots echoed around his quarters.

“Who’s there?” he said, squinting at the doorway.

There was no reply, though a long shadow fell across the durasteel floor to the edge of Hux’s bed. Backlit by the illuminators was a vision in silver.

“Captain Phasma?” said Hux.

“Not tonight, General,” she replied, adjusting the fall of the red cloak over her shoulders. “Tonight I am the spirit of Christmas Past. You were told of my coming.”

Hux sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Certainly this was a dream, just as the ghost of his father had been. “Captain, this is not the time. And this is my private residence. I insist you leave at once.”

“I cannot go until you have seen what you must this night,” Phasma said. “You must come with me, General.”

“And go where?” he asked.

“To holidays past,” she replied. Taking a step toward him, she held out her hand. “Come, General. We must make haste. There is much to see and we have but a short time.”

Hux eyed her, still convinced none of this was really happening. If that was a case, though, and this was a fantasy, he saw little harm in going with her. Brushing the blankets aside, he slid to the edge of the bed and stood.

“I should dress,” he said.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Phasma. “Take my hand and we’ll be away.”

Hesitantly, Hux slid his narrow fingers into her gauntleted hand. They took a step toward the brightness before them, and in a flash, Hux’s quarters were gone.

When his vision cleared, Hux looked around wide-eyed. He was standing at center of the officers’ lounge. He looked down at his regulation sleepwear in horror. He would never deign to appear before his subordinates in such a state.

“Phasma,” he hissed, pulling his hand from her grip, “get me out of here at once! I can’t be seen like this.”

“And you won’t be. They can’t see you.” Raising her arm, she pointed across the room. “They see _him_.”

In the distance Hux saw himself, fully turned out in uniform, not a hair out of place. He was holding a glass of pink punch in a plastic cup, his expression steely.

“Do you remember this party?” said Phasma. “Five years ago now, when you had just received your promotion and come aboard as commander of the _Finalizer_.”

Hux glanced around, slowing recognizing the decorations and the faces of the officers. Most of them were still serving under him, but there were two or three that had left for new postings after promotions. One of them, Lieutenant Uttick, approached the younger Hux.

“Sir,” he said, “we’re glad you made it aboard in time for the holiday celebration. It’s always a highlight of the year.”

The younger Hux frowned. “It’s frivolous. We should be concentrating on our duties.”

Uttick look uncertain. “I suppose so, General, but it does raise our spirits. There will be dancing later.”

If it was possible, the younger Hux looked even more disgusted. Hux himself, as he stood watching the exchange that had happened so many years ago, held back an approving smile.

“I remember, yes,” he said to Phasma. “I ordered the party ended before any manner of dancing could begin.”

“You did,” she said. “Much to their disappointment. And mine.”

Hux raised a brow. “You dance, Captain?”

“Quite well, sir.”

“Indeed.” He turned back to his younger self, who was once again alone. He made a face as he sipped at the punch before abandoning the half-full cup on a table.

The door to the lounge hissed open, revealing a figure in black. Heads turned and conversation died out as the partygoers recognized the robes and the helmet he carried under his arm. Kylo Ren, for the first time since the younger Hux had met him several weeks before, was barefaced.

Even as he stood there now, having seen Ren’s face many times, the Hux of the present was struck by his unusual beauty. He was unscarred then, the asymmetry of his features made somewhat less so. His long hair hung in waves around his shoulders. He hesitated in the doorway, looking around as if unsure how to proceed. As he lit upon the younger Hux, though, he strode toward him.

“General Hux,” he said, his voice still low, but undistorted by the vocoder in his helmet.

“Lord Ren,” said the younger Hux.

They regarded each other, unspeaking, for a moment. Hux of the present remembered searching for words. Even in their short acquaintance, the younger Hux had already learned a great deal about Ren and his short temper, entitled air, and complete disregard for the regulations of the Order. Hux had disliked him then and cared no more for him now.

All the eyes in the room where still on Ren and the younger Hux, waiting.

“Is there something you require?” the younger Hux said.

Ren continued to look at him, unblinking. “No. I came for...this.”

The younger Hux clasped his hands behind his back. “I see.”

“You didn’t expect me.”

“No.”

Ren said, “I didn’t expect you, either. You don’t seem like the type to come to a holiday party.”

Both the younger and elder Huxes bristled. _Presumptuous ass_.

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?” said the younger Hux.

“Yes,” Ren said.

The Hux of the present rolled his eyes. “Why did he even come? The others can do nothing but stare.”

“It was the first time they were seeing him as a man,” said Phasma. “Can you really blame them?”

“Perhaps not.”

“And I should think it was obvious why he was here,” she said.

“Because he has the festive heart of the child?” Hux said, wry.

“He came to see you. And to be seen by you.”

Hux shot her a look. “Why would he want me in particular to see his face?”

Phasma cocked her head to the side, though Hux could only imagine her expression. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

“Understand what?” Hux sighed.

“Watch.”

“Do you enjoy the holidays, General?” Ren asked.

“Not particularly,” the younger Hux replied. “It distracts from our purpose, our responsibilities.”

“It’s just a few hours.”

“I could read fifteen reports in this time,” said Hux. “That, at least, would be useful.”

“Not everything has to serve the purposes of the Order, General,” Ren said. “Leisure time is appreciated by your men.”

“They have it between shifts.”

Ren’s dark brows drew together. “You mean when they should be sleeping.”

The younger Hux said nothing.

The Hux of the present felt a slight pang. He really did run his officers hard, but that was to be expected. He gave himself no quarter.

“Maybe you should,” said Phasma.

The Hux of the present didn’t reply.

“Your commitment to the Order is admirable,” said Ren, “but even the Supreme Leader knows that you cannot spend every waking moment in service.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” the younger Hux said, “but I take pride in my work and see no reason to pursue trivial pastimes like this foolish party.” He cocked a brow. “Though if you intend to dance later, I might be willing to allow it for the sake of witnessing that.”

Ren scowled. “I don’t dance.”

The younger Hux offered a sly smile. “I thought not.”

As they had been talking, the chatter around them had gradually picked up again. Not all of attention was on them. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux saw Lieutenant Mitaka approaching.

“General Hux, Lord Ren,” he said. “They’re about to serve the figgy pudding. Would you care for—” He was cut off, grasping at his throat.

Ren was glaring at him, holding his admittedly giant, gloved right hand out toward Mitaka.

“Let him go, Ren!” Hux said.

Ren did nothing of the sort, continuing to choke the lieutenant with the Force.

“Why in the hell does he insist on doing that?” the Hux of the present said. “We all know of his power. He doesn’t need to display it.”

“That’s not the point,” said Phasma. “Mitaka interrupted you. Lord Ren was displeased.”

“So, he tried to break his neck?” said Hux.

“He wants your attention, General, and doesn’t appreciate when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

“Bloody infant,” said Hux.

The younger Hux grabbed Ren’s left bicep insistently. “Release him. Now.”

At the touch, Ren dropped his hand. Mitaka collapsed to his knees.

“If you’re going to behave like that,” said Hux, “you’re not welcome here.”

Ren flinched. “Fine.” He yanked himself free of Hux’s grip and stormed out.

The younger Hux turned to Mitaka to see to him.

“Come,” said Phasma to the Hux of the present. “There’s more for you to see.”

Hux followed her out of the lounge and into the hallway. A mist was curling around their feet as they walked, though it did not touch the patrol of stormtroopers who went past. It swirled up to Hux’s chest as they rode the lift up several decks. He coughed.

“Is that really necessary?” he grumbled, waving the mist away from his face.

“Go with the ambiance, General,” Phasma said.

When they arrived, Hux recognized the residential part of the ship. His own quarters were there and he strongly hoped that that was where they were bound. Unfortunately, they stopped outside of the door of Kylo Ren’s residence.

“In the five years you have been serving together,” said Phasma, “you have never set foot in Lord Ren’s quarters. Though he has been in yours.”

“And what of it?” said Hux. “I don’t care how he lives.”

Phasma set a hand on the door and began to pass through it. “Perhaps you should. He is very much alone.”

Ren’s living space was remarkably spartan, even sterile. His bed was neatly made, the desk devoid of any personal effects. The only object that stood out was a pedestal upon which a mangled mass of metal stood. Hux approached it.

“Is that…?”

“It is,” said Phasma. “The mask of Darth Vader.”

Hux shook his head. “He’s obsessed.”

“He’s devoted to a legacy.”

“Is that what you wanted me to see?”

“Not all,” she said, gesturing to the refresher.

As Hux looked over, the door slid open and Ren stepped out. He was shirtless, though a pair of black suspenders were slung over his shoulders.

“ _T_ _hat’s_ what he wears under the robes?” said Hux. “Ridiculous.”

“But practical,” Phasma said, raising one armored shoulder and letting it fall again.

They watched as Ren walked past them and went to the desk. He sank onto the chair, resting his hands on his knees. He hung his head, the hair hiding his face.

Hux crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his toe as he cast a sidelong look at Phasma. “How long is this going to take?”

“Have patience, General,” she said.

Ren looked up then, reaching for the console before him. He engaged the display and brought up a holo. Hux recognized himself, his greatcoat hanging from his shoulders and hat on his head. The words he spoke were familiar, from a speech he had given to the troopers some weeks before. He had been particularly proud of that one; it had been stirring.

“Ren found it particularly stirring,” Phasma said.

“Is that so?”

“Watch.”

Ren sat back some in the chair as the speech continued, sinking lower and parting his legs. Hux’s mouth fell open as Ren trailed his hand up his thigh to the space between them. He palmed himself through the fabric of his trousers.

“He isn’t,” Hux said, his voice strained.

“Oh, he is,” said Phasma.

Hux gaped. “I can’t watch this. I don’t want to see it.”

“A little more.”

Hux’s stomach roiled and he considered looking away, but unbidden his gaze was drawn back to Ren, who had now drawn his cock out and was slowly stroking himself. His eyes were focused on the blue image of Hux as he delivered his speech.

“ _Hux_ ,” Ren groaned aloud. “Fuck.”

“Phasma, please,” Hux begged. “For stars’ sake, get me out of here.”

“Not until you understand,” she said.

“How can I not understand? This is crystal clear.”

“Then you know that he wants you. That he seeks your attention because he craves it desperately.”

“But what does it matter?” Hux demanded. “The man is maddening. I have no interest in...this.”

“Allied you would be stronger than you are apart,” said Phasma. “Consider what you could accomplish together. The galaxy would be yours.”

“Are you telling me to sleep with him for the sake of the First Order?”

“The conclusion is yours to make,” she said. “I am only here to show you the way.”

Hux took one more look at Ren. He was making small noises of pleasure, his hand moving quickly over his cock. Though it should have disgusted him—and in part it did—the display was affecting. Hux felt his own cock twitch in response.

With a last, pained cry of Hux’s name, Ren spilled himself into his hand. His broad shoulders were hunched and trembling.

“Why does he want me?” Hux asked, quiet.

“That I can’t answer,” Phasma said. “You would have to ask him yourself. Come, General. It’s time we go.”

Ren and his quarters faded and in the next moment Hux found himself back in his own residence. His bed was just as he had left it, though the chronometer was back in its place on the bedside table. It read 2430.

“I’ll leave you now, sir,” said Phasma. “But know that the next spirit will come with the toll of 0100.”

Hux sighed. “Goodbye then, spirit.”

“Goodbye, General Hux.”

As she faded away, he lay back down, threw the covers over his head, and slept again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux meets the Spirit of Christmas Present.

When next the chronometer sounded, Hux cursed himself for his immediate confusion. Typically he was on his feet and ready as soon as he heard the alarm. But this time his vision swam. Hux rubbed his eyes hard with his knuckles and sat up. Blinking, he checked the time. Sure enough: 0100.

He swore. But there was no mist this time. Perhaps he had merely mis-set the chronometer (annoying but hardly unforgivable considering the events prior). Just as he went to roll over once again, the air was suddenly full to bursting with the scent of fresh cinnamon. It was stronger than the Endorian Moon Flower air freshener someone had seen fit to place in the ‘trooper bathroom on D deck. Hux wouldn’t know about it aside from the fact that lunch that day in the officers’ mess had been some sort of exotic legume that hadn’t agreed with him. _At all._

From beyond his door came a tinny rattling sound that—had he known what a sleigh was—he might have identified as sleigh bells.

Hux sneezed.

His quarters door opened. The figure standing there was not even close to larger-than-life, as the apparition of Phasma had been. It was smallish, and it shook like a puppy. It was also dressed, improbably, in a First Order uniform that had somehow turned bright green, and was outfitted in a triangular cap with a tiny bell at the tip that jingled around the top of its ear. “It” being Dopheld Mitaka.

“Lieutenant!” Hux roared, shooting to his feet. “What is the meaning of this? That is a non-regulation uniform and a hat that goes so beyond non-regulation as to be laughable! And you haven’t yet saluted. Is this another holiday prank?”

“W-well, sir,” Mitaka started, “as your venerable father said, you will be visited by three spirits this night.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “I’m growing impatient. Where is this next one, then?”

Mitaka shrugged, his hands palm-up. “Well, uh, it’s me. Tonight I am not your trusted Lieutenant Mitaka but the Ghost of Christmas Present.”

Though what Hux wanted to say was,  _You’d best always be my trusted lieutenant, and shed that getup before I have you flogged_ , but the billowing waves of cinnamon were interfering with his ability to be stern. It was making him somewhat nauseous. Instead, he said, waving his hand in front of his nose, “Can you dial that back a bit?”

Mitaka looked chastised. “Oh, yeah, sure. Of course, sir. I just thought it might put you in the holiday mood.”

“What, pray tell, is the ‘holiday mood?’”

Blushing, Mitaka said, “Uh...merry?”

Hux scowled. “I am merry when I see the carbonized husks of Resistance planets.” At last he was able to catch his breath as the strong scent abated.

“With all due respect, sir,” said Mitaka, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you merry. Not once. Not even then.”

“It was a grave responsibility,” Hux snapped back. “A general should never give in to frivolity, even in the face of overwhelming triumph. I doubt the loathsome Resistance is making much merry now.”

“I—I think you’d be surprised by how resilient people are, sir. They find happiness where they can.”

“Bah,” said Hux. “Doubtful.”

Mitaka held out his shaking hand. “If you’ll allow me to, sir, I can show you people finding merriment in less-than-merry circumstances.”

Sighing out hard through his nose, Hux asked, “Do I have a choice in the matter?”

Mitaka’s panicked look nearly brought a slim smile to the general’s face. “I—uh. I don’t think so, sir.”

Hux shook his head. “Very well, then.” The room around him dissolved and he involuntarily closed his eyes.

Having expected to find himself on some wretched Resistance backwater, Hux was surprised to see the familiar black durasteel corridors of the _Finalizer_ , and he was immediately put at more ease. It did not last long, though. Now the ringing of bells was plainly heard. And over it, the far-away sound of harmonious voices.

“By the stars, I told Thanisson that if I heard or smelled anything remotely holiday-like it would all be shut down!” Hux shouted.

None of the troopers in the halls flinched.

“Uh, all due respect again, sir, but you said that about the officers’ lounge.”

“Well, take me to it, then!”

At that, Mitaka smiled a little. “We’re almost there.”

The sound of muffled singing grew only slightly louder as they approached the doors. The admittedly lovely notes floated softly from beneath the masks of the four ‘troopers who stood in front of the open lounge. Bare-faced officers were crowded into the doorway, eagerly listening.

_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-laaaaaaaaaa!_

The officers burst into applause as the ‘troopers finished their song. In response, the ‘troopers bowed, the plates of their plasteel armor clicking together. Young, happy-looking Thanisson nudged his way through the crowd at the door, four steaming mugs of hot cocoa in his hands. “Thanks, guys,” he said, handing out the cups one by one to each of the (supposedly) beaming ‘troopers.

They waited for a moment, all looking at one another, and then Thanisson shook his head abruptly and said, “Oh!” He dug into his back pocket for straws and placed one in each cup so the ‘troopers could sip through the grilles in their masks.

“Cheers, guv!” said one of the men. His voice, even through the standard modulator, was nothing short of... _merry_.

Hux narrowed his eyes.

The smile fell from ghost-Mitaka’s face. “I guess we’ll go in, then?”

“If we must.”

True to Hux’s wishes, there were no obtrusive scents, clanging bells, or music. But the lounge walls shimmered with garlands and there was a softly glowing tree in the center of the room, hung with tinsel and tiny replicas of Starkiller Base. Hux tried very, very hard not to find it endearing.

Mitaka must have noticed. “They do love their jobs, sir.”

“Bah,” Hux said, though it was soft and half-hearted.

In the corner of the room, by one of the lounge couches, a passel of officers was playing charades. That tugged at Hux’s heart just a little. He had passed time as a young lad with his nanny droid playing charades. The droid had been terrible at it, but tiny Armitage hadn’t cared a bit. Now, he merely straightened the cuffs of his regulation pajamas and sniffed.

“Who’s up next?” one of the officers asked.

“I am!” shouted Thanisson, running into the group after having delivered the steaming beverages to the stormtroopers at the door. Another group could be heard faintly caroling down the hall. “At this rate, we’re going to run out of cocoa,” he said. After positioning himself in the middle of the circle, Thanisson made a gesture.

“That means ‘person,’” Hux said, then slapped his hand over his mouth.

“I’m aware, sir,” said Mitaka with a full-on grin.

Hux glared at him.

Thanisson glared, too, only at the assembled officers. He put his nose up in the air and crossed his arms, then scowled down at them. To a man, they burst into laughter.

“General Hux!” one shouted.

“That’s too easy,” said another.

Hux felt red rage climbing up from his buttoned collar to his cheeks. “Listen here, you treasonous…” But he was stopped short, for as he tried to grab the collar of the nearest officer, his hand slipped _through_ the man entirely, leaving Hux trying to regain his balance. He looked over at Mitaka.

Another guilty glance from the lieutenant. “They can’t see or hear you, sir.”

The officer who had spoken last jumped up, grinning. He made the sign for “person” again. After looking around the room with a hunted expression, he thrust his hips forward and mimed jerking off.

More raucous laughter. “Lord Ren!” Thanisson yelled.

Hux’s eyes went wide. The blush of anger turned to one of shame. “How do they _know_ that?”

Mitaka shrugged, a slow gesture. “It’s practically a running joke. The officer whose quarters abut Lord Ren’s sometimes lets the disbelieving pay to listen through the air circulation vents.”

“Oh, _Hux_ ,” Thanisson said with an exaggerated groan.

Hux put his hand over his eyes, shaking his head.

“So when do you think they’re going to get together?” a junior officer asked.

More laughter. “When the good general finally figures it out.”

“Imagine what we’ll hear through the vents when _that_ happens!”

Hux stood, red and radiating heat and mortified, his eyes wide. “Please, Lieutenant,” he said, turning to Mitaka. “I have to get out of here. It’s too much.”

Mitaka gave a slow nod. “As you wish.”

They were spirited away on a swirling, cinnamon-scented cloud to another, far darker area of the ship. Actually, it wasn’t dark—with the sparkling lights of the instrument panels and the light of the billion stars visible through the transparisteel foredeck windows—but it was much more somber. A single figure stood on the bridge, hands clasped behind his back.

It was General Hux himself, in the present. Stoic, poised...alone.

“Now this is more like it,” other-Hux said, though there was not much force behind the words.

“With all due respect,” Mitaka said, daring to gently nudge Hux’s shoulder, “no one should be alone on Christmas.”

“I’m not alone,” Hux said. “I have my ship. My plans.”

Just then, present-Hux heaved a sigh that echoed then was lost in the still air of the bridge. Ghost-Hux looked down at his feet.

“Someone else is alone on Christmas,” said Mitaka. “Do you want to see?”

A cold dread built in Hux’s chest. “Not particularly.”

“With all due respect, sir—”

Hux cut him off. “I know, I know. ‘Tough shit.’”

Mitaka touched his shoulder and they were away again.

Kylo Ren did not appear to be in his quarters when Mitaka and Hux appeared there, for which Hux was endlessly grateful. The strange, melted mask of Darth Vader sat on its pedestal, looking forlorn and vaguely creepy. Hux suppressed a shudder. He heard a far-off shushing sound, but only identified it as the refresher when it had stopped.

He and Mitaka, fidgeting in his green suit, stood there for a few long moments. “Just what exactly is it that I’m supposed to—” Hux couldn’t finish the sentiment because Ren walked out of the ‘fresher stark naked, drying his hair with a small and scratchy regulation towel. Very much without his consent, Hux’s mouth dropped open.

Like stockings over a cheery fireplace, Ren was hung. Hux hadn’t noticed exactly how large this particular portion of Ren’s anatomy had been during the trip through the past, as it had been partially blocked from view. There it was, though, on full and impressive display. Hux’s butt tightened involuntarily.

Mitaka elbowed him gently. “Me, too,” he whispered.

At that, Ren went on guard, all his muscles tensing. The towel dropped from his grip.

“I thought you said he couldn’t see or hear us!” Hux hissed.

“Well,” Mitaka said, “I didn’t really take the Force into ac—” At that moment, Ghost-Mitaka began clawing at the collar of his green uniform. His face quickly turning purple, he began to lift up off the floor, gagging and struggling.

When Hux looked over at Ren, he had his fist clenched. Hux rolled his eyes. He walked over to Ren, knowing full well he couldn’t touch the man, and slapped him. Of course, Hux’s hand went through Ren’s entire head, but it seemed nonetheless to have some effect on him, because he loosened his grip and dropped Mitaka in a heap on the floor.

Ren touched the cheek that Hux had slapped, a look of almost comic puzzlement on his unconventionally handsome but still infuriating face. Blinking those big, dark eyes.

“Th...thank you,” said Ghost Mitaka, trying and failing to get to his feet.

Hux went back over to the corner of the room, straightening his shirt hem and clearing his throat. He was in some ways very satisfied, and in others very disturbed. Even though it hadn’t really happened, he would admit to feeling somewhat _conflicted_ about ghost-slapping the piss out of Kylo Ren.

“Can we get going no—” Hux began, then froze in his tracks when he looked across the room again to Ren.

The man was still clutching his face, but lower on his massive body, he was quickly and inexplicably becoming hard. As if the Force-slap or whatever it was had actually succeeded in turning him on.

“Damnation,” Hux said, trying to ignore the twitch of his own cock. “Must we go through this again?”

“Just, uh, just give me a little time to get my bearings,” Mitaka said, his voice hoarse. “Then we can go.”

Trying to look at the wrist that typically held his comm/chronometer and was now pale and speckled and soft and bare, Hux found himself nonetheless drawn to the sight in front of him.

Ren, now fully tumescent, pulled up with a flourish of his hand the holo-image of solitary present-Hux standing on the bridge. In the blue holo you could see none of the stars or the instrument panels—just a lonely-looking man staring into literal space. “Hux,” Ren whispered. Then, more softly, “Armitage.” He stroked the behatted image of Hux with one beefy finger.

As if Hux could not get more awed, disturbed, or secretly excited, Ren then put the same finger in his mouth and sucked at it languidly. It dripped with saliva as he removed it from his lips and sent it straight back around...between his ass cheeks.

“Oh, dear, sweet, smoking bantha carcasses,” Hux said as Ren wriggled the finger into himself.

With his other hand, Ren began tugging at his frankly frightening cock, moving the finger in and out to the same fervid rhythm. “Yeah, just like that,” he whispered. “Fuck me, Hux.”

Hux crossed his legs _tight_ and squeezed his eyes shut. He would rather die roasting in Starkiller’s death beam than pop a boner in front of Mitaka. “Are you _quite_ ready?” he asked the still-gasping lieutenant.

Ren was gasping as well, slamming his finger in and out of his body and twisting his cock cruelly in his grip. No sooner did Mitaka get to his feet than Ren groaned and shuddered and sent a jet of semen right through the holo-image of Hux and onto the floor in front of him.

“Ready?” Mitaka asked.

“Yeah, baby,” Ren said to the holoprojection.

“Murder me,” said Hux.

“All right, sir. We can go now.”

Hux’s quarters still reeked of cinnamon when he and Mitaka returned, the lieutenant still clearing his throat with a raspy growl every so often.

“Are we quite finished for the night, then?” Hux said, eyeing his bed. “I’d like to get some manner of sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitaka croaked. “I’ll leave you now, but in an hour expect the last spirit.”

Hux suppressed a groan. After what he had just witnessed, he could only imagine what was coming—quite literally—next.

“Ah, good night, then, sir,” said Mitaka as he backed away toward the door.

Hux grumbled his farewells and was left alone. He went to the bedside and sat, letting his head fall into his hands. The image of Ren with a long finger up his ass and his huge hand around his cock was seared into his mind. With his eyes closed, it was inescapable. He didn’t want to admit that it had been enticing, that in the moment right before Ren had come—his eyes pinched closed and his full lips parted—he had been breathtaking.

“Fuck off,” Hux said, scowling down at his crotch as he felt himself starting to stir again. He _would not_ give in to this, no matter how easy it would be to reach into his pajama pants and take himself in hand. He _would not_ masturbate to the thought of Kylo Ren masturbating to the thought of him. It was too outrageous to be tolerated.

With a belabored sigh, Hux fell back against the mattress. He would make it through this night one way or another, and come morning, everything would return to normal. He was glad that Ren almost never took off his ridiculous mask, because Hux wasn’t certain he would be able to look him in the face without remembering all he had seen. It was going to be awkward enough to deal with him anyway.

Maybe it was all an elaborate joke. Hoping desperately that it was, Hux curled himself into a ball and went back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

This time Hux wasn’t surprised by the sound of the chronometer, which was once again at his bedside. As he rolled over to squint at it, he could make out that it was exactly 0200. Resigned to yet another outing with one of his subordinates, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Three spirits, his father had said. He had only to endure one more and then he could do his level best to put the image of Kylo Ren with his admittedly massive hand around his equally sizable... _Yule log_...out of his mind for good.

“Do not be so hasty, General,” said a deep, craggy voice from the vicinity of the door. “You should not dismiss the things you have seen this night.”

It was dark on that side of the room—almost too dark to be possible anywhere besides the darkest starless darkness of dark space—and Hux could not make out any figure, but he recognized that voice immediately. Throwing his blankets away and scrambling to his feet, he saluted.

“Supreme Leader Snoke,” he said, voice quavering only slightly with a question.

Creeping tendrils of mist moved across the floor as the hunched form of Snoke appeared from the shadows. He was robed as he always was, and walked so smoothly that he all but glided. Hux was unable to keep himself from imaging the ancient Force-wielding being wearing a pair of wheeled shoes beneath his draped garments.

“There are no wheels,” Snoke said ominously. Wrapping his bony fingers in the fabric of his robes, he lifted them to reveal a pair of ice skates, their blades winking silver even in the dim illumination that came with his presence. The durasteel around his feet was covered in a thick sheet of ice. Hux shivered in his thin, silk pajamas.

“I, ah, see, Supreme Leader,” he said.

“Do you, General?” said Snoke, (thankfully) letting his robes fall again. “I do not think so. You have been shown much by the preceding spirits, but I see you have not heeded their messages.”

Hux’s face fell. “Certainly you, too, are not here to show me Kylo Ren...abusing himself?”

“I am here to show you the holidays to come,” said Snoke. “And my apprentice has a role to play in that future.” He gestured toward the door with a skeletal arm. “Come. Follow.”

Hux went cautiously, careful not to slip on the ice Snoke left in his wake. As they walked—or skated—Hux’s quarters once again faded away in a swirl of mist.

When it cleared, Hux found them in a small chamber with a large viewport looking out over the starscape. At the center was a long capsule draped partway with a flag of the First Order. Hux had only seen this tableau once before: his father’s funeral, his burial at sea, so to speak, as was due an officer of his rank.

“What is this?” he said. “Who has died?”

“Look closer and see,” said Snoke.

Hesitantly, and with a roiling of uncertainty in his belly, Hux approached the capsule. Cold fear suffused him as he recognized the figure entombed within.

“It’s me,” he breathed. True enough, his pallid corpse was laid out there, in full uniform with his gloved hands folded over his midsection and his eyes closed. He looked no older than he did now, so he could only assume this wasn’t far in the future.

“Yes, General,” Snoke said, sliding up behind him with the scrape of skates on ice. “It _is_ you. An untimely demise.”

“What happened?” Hux asked. He was frightened of the answer, but was unable to remain ignorant.

Snoke looked sternly down at the corpse, and spoke steadily: “It was at a trade banquet on Epsil Beta. You were making a trade agreement with a hostile planetary government. Their leadership had conceded, but the people refused to bend to the First Order’s will.”

“They killed me for it?”

“It was a precision blaster bolt to the chest,” said Snoke.

Unbidden, Hux laid a hand over his breast, his breath coming up short. “Surely I would have had security.”

“You could have had the best in the galaxy, but you thought he was cause a scene and told him to remain behind.”

The realization came quickly and sent a cold, snaking chill down Hux’s spine. “Ren.”

“Indeed,” said Snoke. “He insisted on coming with you, but you wouldn’t allow it.” He cast a dark glance at Hux. “And you lost your life because of it.”

Hux turned to look at the Supreme Leader with frightened eyes. “All I had to do was take him with me?”

Snoke frowned, or at least Hux thought he frowned; his expression was much the same most of the time and the scars made it difficult to read him. “He wishes to be by your side.”

“You mean he wants to fuck me,” said Hux before he could think to censor himself.

“Well, yes,” Snoke said, tipping his head to the side, “but that’s not all. He—” The Supreme Leader was interrupted by the opening of the door behind them.

Hux turned to see two figures coming through into the room. One of them was Mitaka, turned out in his uniform, and the other, towering over him, was Ren.

“What are they doing here?” Hux said.

“They are your mourners,” said Snoke.

Hux’s brows shot up to his hairline. “Only the two of them? Where are my other officers? The troopers? I should be having a full, public funeral!”

Snoke shrugged. “They respected and feared you, but they did not care about you.”

Hux’s heart withered in his breast. “You mean...only my lieutenant and the most infuriating man I know care about me?”

“You are not a particularly loveable person, Armitage,” said Snoke. “Or do you not realize that?”

“I don’t need that nonsense. I have my work.”

“Ah, but you could have so much more.” He pointed to Ren. “See?”

Hux looked, and nearly recoiled in horror as he saw fat tears rolling down Ren’s face and dropping onto the coarse fabric of his cowl. “That _thing_ has feelings?” he said.

“Yes, General,” said Snoke. “Feelings for you.”

“It can’t be.”

“It is.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.”

Hux wrapped his arms around himself, looking between his corpse and the weeping Ren. Out of the corner of his eyes, though, he saw Mitaka take a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket.

“I’ve prepared a few words,” he started. “I—” He was cut off by an invisible hand closing once more around his neck. Ren, his eyes still red and puffy, had his hand out to choke him.

“Shut up,” he snarled. “And get out.”

Mitaka skidded back and across the threshold, propelled by the Force. The door slid closed behind him, leaving Ren alone.

Hux watched him pull off one of his gloves. He pressed his bare hand to the plas of the capsule just above dead Hux’s face.

“You bastard,” he whispered. “I lo—”

“No!” Hux cried. “I won’t hear that. It’s not true. He has no idea what he’s saying.”

Snoke shook his head. “You would do well to listen, General. If you do not, you will find yourself in this Christmas future. Are you willing to die rather than have my apprentice?”

Hux deflated. He didn’t want to die young. He wanted to see the First Order rise to power and rule over the galaxy. But if the price was letting Kylo Ren into his bed and, stars forbid, his heart…

“Bah,” he said.

“Come now, General,” said Snoke. “If you wish to avert this and live on, you must change your ways. Let not this become your last Christmas. Let the spirit of the season in.” He gave an off-putting wink. “And Kylo Ren...let him in, too.”

“But he’s insufferable.”

“An excellent lay, though.”

Hux’s jaw dropped. “Please don’t tell me you know that from experience.”

Snoke looked positively affronted. “I may be a powerful being filled with the anger and wickedness of the dark side, but I’m not _that_ reprehensible. Ugh, disgusting.”

Hux rubbed his forehead. “Sorry.”

Snoke waved him off. “I’ll forget you ever suggested it. Now, back to business.” He drew himself up to his full height and glowered down at Hux. “This is your future unless you are willing to become a new man. A jolly man.”

“Not that,” said Hux. “Never that.”

“Oh, fine,” Snoke said. “At least don’t be such a humbug during the damn holidays. Even _I_ put up a tree in my lair.”

“I...understand, Supreme Leader.”

“Good.” The small room, the capsule, and Kylo Ren all began to disappear. A moment later, they were back in Hux’s quarters.

“You know what you must do,” Snoke said. “Go forth and be festive, General. Enjoy your life and the company of Kylo Ren and you will be a better man.”

Hux swallowed heavily, still pained, but nodded.

Snoke gave a final pirouette on his Force-made ghost ice and faded away. Hux stared into the space the master of the First Order had left behind, wondering once again how all of this could be possible. Trying to comprehend it all—especially the events that he had just witnessed—he was suddenly overcome with weariness. He had much to consider, and yet his mind was foggy with lethargy. Stifling a yawn, he shuffled back toward his bed. He stood at the edge for a moment before collapsing face-first onto the mattress. He groaned long and deep before succumbing to the inevitable tug of slumber.

 

* * *

 

When next the chronometer sounded, Hux jerked awake with a gasp. At last his harrowing night was over—a night that had been as long as Kylo Ren’s cock. Slightly disoriented, he rolled to his feet. What day was this? Was it really the morning of the holiday after all? Hastening to his door, he stuck his head out into the passageway. Just outside was a patrol of troopers, three of them raising their voices in song. It was a pleasant tune and on any other holiday morn Hux would have told them off, but not today. Not today!

“You, trooper!” Hux called.

The trio stopped, alarmed, and turned. “Y-yes, sir?” said one of them.

“What is today?”

There was a pause and then the trooper replied, “It’s...Christmas, sir.”

Hux felt a strange sense of elation. If today was Christmas, he had the chance to set things to rights before the terrible future he had seen came to pass. Unbidden, his mouth curled up into a smile. The troopers stumbled back, seemingly startled. They had likely never seen such an expression.

“Merry Christmas, my expendable subordinates,” Hux said. “Tell me, where is Lieutenant Mitaka?”

“He spent all of gamma shift on the bridge, sir,” said the trooper.

Hux wasn’t certain how that could have been, since he had visited him as a spirit, but he was willing to go with it after the outrageous nature of the night before.

“Very good,” he said. “It’s time he was relieved. Everyone would have their rest on Christmas.”

The troopers exchanged glances. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

“Go on your way, then, and be gleeful!”

The troopers started off again, but without their song.

“Sing on!” said Hux.

They immediately launched into a rousing rendition of Jingle Bell Rock. With that in his ears, Hux slid back into his quarters and shut the door. There was a certain skip in his step as he made his way to the refresher. He took a brief shower before donning his uniform. There was so much to do. Not a moment could be wasted.

When he arrived on the bridge, the techs and young officers stood at attention, saluting him.

“At ease,” he said, turning a smile as bright at Starkiller’s beam on them.

Mitaka faced him with wide eyes, uncertain what was happening. “Ah, good morning, sir.”

“It’s a good morning indeed.” Hux clapped him on the shoulder, much to Mitaka’s surprise. “Have all the preparations been made for the holiday party, lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir. We have the punch and the decorations and the figgy pudding.”

“Excellent! We must summon all the officers immediately. Is there music? There must be dancing!”

Mitaka stared at him slack-jawed. “But, sir, you ordered no music and especially no dancing.” His voice trembled. “Didn’t you?”

Hux rubbed his chin. “Maybe I did, but I’ve changed my mind. This is going to be a very different holiday.” He spread his arms wide. “See to the preparations, peons. Everything must be in _order_.”

The officers scurried to their business, leaving Hux on the bridge. He looked out across the starscape for a moment, thinking back to the vision of him alone in just this place on this day. That was no longer his fate. He would take part in the merriment and, though he was still uncertain about what it would mean, make the move that would bring him closer to Kylo Ren.

The party was in full swing by the time Hux arrived. However, the stormtrooper DJ scratched his record into silence when Hux stepped into the room. There was a collective gasp.

“No, no,” said Hux. “Don’t stop. You cannon fodder deserve this day. It is a special celebration of the short lives you have.”

With only a small measure of reluctance, the DJ resumed playing. It was a Wookiee version of “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

“Would you care for some punch, sir?” asked Mitaka, offering a cup of pink liquid.

Hux took it happily and sipped. It was sickeningly sweet, but he choked it down in the spirit of the season. The decorations were just as he had seen in his vision of Christmas present: the trees, the ribbons, even a sprig of mistletoe hung above the door. He was looking up at it when a shadow darkened the threshold. Hux steeled himself. This was the moment when he truly changed his destiny. Setting his empty glass down, he approached Kylo Ren.

“Good morning,” he said. “Come in and join us.”

Ren was masked, so there was no expression to see. Hux watched him, waiting.

“Good morning, General,” Ren said. “Merry Christmas.”

Hux smiled slowly. “The same to you, Kylo.”

Ren’s shoulders tensed visibly and there was a slight intake of breath through his rebreather. Carefully, Hux reached out a hand and set it on his shoulder. He tipped his head up toward the mistletoe.

“It seems we find ourselves caught up in a tradition,” he said. “It would be bad luck not to honor it.” Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to the front of Ren’s mask. “Now come inside and have some pudding.”

As they turned together to the room filled with Hux’s lowly officers, Mitaka raised his glass and said, meekly, “Stars bless us everyone.”

 

* * *

 

**Later That Evening**

 

The slap of skin and heavy breathing were the only sounds in Kylo Ren’s quarters. He was lying on his back with the image of General Hux’s knowing smile in the aftermath of that single, chaste kiss in his head as he stroked his substantial _candy cane_. It would be enough to sustain him for months to come. His hand stuttered, though, as he heard the buzz of someone at the door.

Reaching out with the Force, he tried to sense the presence. He was not about to be disturbed unless it was urgent. He nearly popped his Christmas cracker when he recognized Hux standing just outside. He reached for his robe, but before he could, he heard the door open.

“You really should find a better passcode than 1, 2, 3, 4, Ren,” Hux said.

Kylo’s throat tightened, keeping him from speaking. Not to mention the fact that he had no idea what to say as he sat on his bed naked and hard as an icicle.

Hux took a step closer, shutting the door behind him. He held something in his left hand, though Kylo couldn’t make out what it was.

“In honor of the holiday,” said Hux, “I thought we might take in a holofilm.” He tossed a holodisc over. Kylo caught it and looked down at the title: _Ebenezer Spooge_.

Hux cocked a brow, the corners of his mouth turning up. “It’s a Christmas classic.”

Kylo looked between the disc and Hux, agape.

“Really, Ren,” Hux said. “Your mouth is wide open. Shut it now or I’ll put a cock in it.”

Kylo’s jaw only dropped further.

Hux smiled slyly. “Very well, then. If that’s how you want to do this. It’s going to be a Christmas to remember.”

 

STARS BLESS US EVERYONE

  
(Merry Christmas, degenerates.)

**Author's Note:**

> For more shenanigans, see tumblr: [nookienostradamus](http://nookienostradamus.tumblr.com/) & [gefionne](http://gefionne.tumblr.com/)


End file.
